


The Cabin

by Dark_And_Twisted_Thing



Series: Wise Blood [5]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cabin Fic, Episode AU: s03e07 Digestivo, Everyone is just warm and fluffy and there's no violence at all, Feelings, Fluff, Hannibal is a domestic god, Kissing, M/M, Medical Care, Sexual Tension, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, baths, cabin porn, coffee drinking...the coffee drinking is important, sink porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 02:12:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19347454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_And_Twisted_Thing/pseuds/Dark_And_Twisted_Thing
Summary: “Coffee?”Will dimly registered Hannibal’s voice through his sleep induced haze, wondering faintly how long it had been since either of them had spoken.“Will? Coffee?”Hannibal’s voice came again, stronger this time, cutting through the dimness as Will fought his way back from sleep. Opening his eyes slowly, Will took in the pale grey light of what he assumed was morning and groaned.***Will and Hannibal reach their destination after escaping from the Verger farm, and find that there's coffee and making out there (all the best destinations should have those things on offer really). A continuation of the Digestivo AU which is honestly so divergent from the actual show at this point, I'm not sure how much longer I can call it that, but we'll see where it takes us!





	The Cabin

“Coffee?”

Will dimly registered Hannibal’s voice through his sleep induced haze, wondering faintly how long it had been since either of them had spoken. 

“Will? Coffee?”

Hannibal’s voice came again, stronger this time, cutting through the dimness as Will fought his way back from sleep. Opening his eyes slowly, Will took in the pale grey light of what he assumed was morning and groaned. 

“Still in this damn car…” he thought, registering the smooth leather and awkward angle of the seat below him and wondering how painful his legs were going to be when he tried to move them. 

He tiled his head to the side and saw Hannibal standing by the open passenger side door, smiling faintly and holding a plain white mug, the contents of which steamed pleasantly in the cold morning air.

“Good morning,” Hannibal said sweetly, looking far too perky and aware for someone who had been driving all night. 

Will groaned again and reached out blindly for the coffee. 

Pressing the mug into Will’s hand carefully, Hannibal tentatively brushed the curls away from his drowsy passenger’s forehead. 

“Apologies, Will, I could not bring myself to wake you sooner. Your sleep seemed more important than moving you, although you may be a little stiff in places.”

Will ignored him and pushed himself upright in order to take a sip of the coffee. It took him a moment to register the fact that the coffee was not of the cheap roadside diner variety, nor was it being presented to him in a paper cup. Pulling the mug away from his lips with a frown, Will examined the crisp, expensive white china with confusion. 

“Where the hell did you find a roadside restaurant with a mug like this?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t. Although I’m pleased you seem to like the crockery I have chosen,” Hannibal replied. 

Looking up and out of the windscreen for the first time since he had opened his eyes, Will completely failed to see the highway truck stop he was expecting, and instead saw a small but beautifully proportioned wooden cabin, framed with well trimmed trees, and complete with a porch containing two immaculately painted red wooden chairs. The cabin’s front door stood open, swaying slightly in the breeze, and Will could see the dancing light from an open fire reflected on the walls inside. Will raked his hand through his hair and sighed. 

“Home, are we?” he asked. 

“We are indeed at our intended destination,” Hannibal replied, and Will suppressed the urge to ask why he always felt the need to make every sentence more wordy than it needed to be. 

Taking another sip of coffee, Will slumped back into the carseat, feeling oddly reluctant to leave the safety of the little home he had made for himself over the past hours. It had taken almost exactly two days to complete the journey from Virginia to Maine, and Hannibal had insisted on doing most of the driving (despite Will’s protestations regarding his fitness to drive). After their initial pause by the roadside to patch up each other’s injuries and talk about their respective emotional positions, they had stopped four times on the first long day of driving, three times for coffee and food, and once to allow Hannibal to sleep, which he did curled up in what Will reluctantly admitted was a rather cute position in the backseat. After Will threatening to hit him over the back of the head if he didn’t allow him to at least do some of the driving, Hannibal had eventually agreed to continue sleeping while Will took the car forward along the next miles of highway. There was something rather odd about driving through the night towards an unknown destination with a sleeping serial killer in the back of the car, and Will had fought the desire to pull over to the side of the road and either start laughing or crying (possibly both at the same time). When the dawn broke over the second straight day of driving, Hannibal had awoken somewhat suddenly, sitting almost bolt upright in the backseat and almost causing Will to drive off the road. 

“God, do you always wake up like that?” Will had asked him, glancing back over his shoulder to see Hannibal raking a hand through his hair while looking rather alarmed. 

“No. I believe I was slightly disorientated by the unfamiliar surroundings. And the movement. I am sorry if I startled you.” 

Will frowned at him through the rear-view mirror. He had never seen Hannibal looking anything even close to flustered, and it struck him that he should be feeling vaguely privileged somehow. Hannibal composed himself quickly and swung his feet off the seat and onto the floor, resting his elbows on his knees as he glanced up through the windscreen. 

“How many miles have you covered?” he asked, scanning the roadside for any signs. 

“About 90 since you fell asleep,” Will replied, looking over his shoulder again and catching Hannibal running his hand gingerly over his injured shoulder. “That hurting again?”

“The uncomfortable nature of sleeping in a car will unfortunately not be conducive to healing it. But it should begin to heal when I am able to sleep in a bed.”

“Stay back there for a bit longer. I can keep driving.”

“Are you sure?”

Will rolled his eyes and looked at Hannibal pointedly in the rear-view mirror. 

“I am only trying to ensure you don’t fall asleep at the wheel and crash,” Hannibal stated matter-of-factly. 

“Well if I do, I’m propping you up in the driver’s seat and claiming I had no knowledge of anything,” Will retorted, flashing another one of those painful grins. 

Hannibal smiled slightly. He reached forward and curled his fingers gently around Will’s shoulder. 

“Thank you, Will.”

On an impulse, Will reached around and laid his hand over Hannibal’s. 

“Sit back. The painkillers are in the cupholder if you want more.”

Squeezing Will’s shoulder before releasing him, Hannibal did as he was told and settled back into the plush leather of the back seat, allowing Will to cover another 30 or so miles before taking over again. 

Day two of their journey was fairly uneventful, a brief altercation over Will’s refusal to lay down in the backseat to sleep being the only real conversation they had. 

“I’d rather be up here - it won’t help, I won’t be able to sleep laying down in a car. I’ve tried,” Will argued, marginally annoyed at being made to fight about this.

“It would be better for you -“

“Hannibal, I do know what’s best for me. Just let me stay up here.”

Hannibal had eyed him dubiously and looked very much like he was struggling to put a sentiment into words. Will preempted him. 

“For god’s sake, I’m not worried about sleeping with you in the car. I know that’s what you’re thinking, so stop it.”

“It would not be an unreasonable fear given -“

Will interrupted him again. 

“No, it wouldn’t be. But that’s got nothing to do with it. I’m not lying to you. I can’t sleep laying down in a car. So just be quiet and let me stay in the front. If I was nervous about being around you, I wouldn’t have even made it this far, would I?”

Apparently feeling placated, Hannibal retreated and let Will stay in the passenger seat, promising to wake him next time they stopped for coffee. Tired from his time driving (which had taken more out of him than he cared to admit), Will had fallen asleep almost immediately, and had awoken unsure if he had dreamt the feeling of Hannibal’s warm hand resting against his leg while he slept.

They had stopped only twice on the second day, once to get more terrible coffee and food, and once again to allow Hannibal a few more hours of sleep. Will had taken over briefly to drive a few more miles, but Hannibal had insisted that a rest for them both would be more conducive to finishing the journey safely, and they had pulled over in a wooded lay-by for a few hours just before the sun had set. 

“Will you lay down this time, or are you still going to insist on staying upright?” Hannibal asked as he switched off the engine. 

“You’ve been doing the driving. You take the back.”

“Very well. How are your injuries?” 

“Not bleeding any more. I don’t really feel them. Yours?”

“I think a warm bath will be in order when we arrive. It should help to ease the tension in my shoulder. But I am not in any unmanageable pain.”

“Good.”

The atmosphere between them suddenly struck Will as awkward for a reason he could not quite place. He looked at Hannibal sideways out of the corner of his eye, and tried to put his finger on the problem. 

“Hannibal, are you worried about something?” he asked suddenly.

Hannibal looked at him for a moment with an inscrutable expression before replying. 

“Why would you think so?”

“Ever thought of answering a question with something other than another question?”

Hannibal huffed out a sigh and turned his eyes away from Will’s face. 

“I am unfamiliar with the concept of trust, Will. I have not been seen as trustworthy, nor have I put my trust in another for a long time.”

Will was quiet for a few minutes, working to piece together the meaning behind Hannibal’s words. 

“You are afraid that I will not be here when you wake up,” he said finally. 

A minute tilt of the head was all Will got by way of reply, but it was enough to know that he had been right in his assumption. He thought for a moment, unsure where to tread in this unfamiliar territory. For as long as he had known Hannibal, Will had always been the one who relied on him for support. Even during the dark days of his incarceration, when his only thoughts had been filled with ways to expose or destroy Hannibal, Will had still been relying on him to keep him sane - his hatred and determination making the days pass quickly inside the BSHCI. When he had been trying to draw Hannibal into the trap he had been constructing with Jack, all of Will’s energy had been concentrated on his attempts to catch him. It had been freeing, and if the spectre of genuinely beginning to care for this inscrutable and morally compromised human had been confusing, Will had always been able to cope with it with Hannibal’s input. Never, he realised suddenly, had Hannibal made an attempt to reach out to him before the night he had revealed himself fully and asked Will to leave with him. Will felt a stab of pain as he remembered the hurt in Hannibal’s eyes when he realised what Will had done and how completely he had been betrayed. Hannibal had opened himself up, had made himself truly vulnerable for the first time in many years, and he had been stung for it. 

Will looked at the man who was now gazing out towards the setting sun with a face set in an expression of deliberate neutrality, and felt an overwhelming sense of profound guilt. He wanted to wrap this man up in his arms and tell him he was sorry, that he had been wrong, that he would never hurt him again. He wanted to whisper all the sweet nothings that lovers do, and fill his mouth with promises he could not ever hope to keep. The feeling was fleeting, and Will knew that, for all the blows he had dealt, Hannibal had dealt just as many back to him - quid pro quo injury. He would not allow himself to feel guilty for his past actions, nor would he let them rule him now. It was over, and although it would be impossible to put all of their terrible history behind them, Will wanted to begin with as clean a slate as possible. 

“Come on,” he said, popping open the passenger door and hopping out. 

Hannibal looked at him with faint confusion on his face. 

Will slammed the passenger door shut and opened the back door, scrambling into the back seat and waiting expectantly. 

Unusually slow on the uptake, Hannibal eventually swung out of the car and joined Will in the back seat, sitting awkwardly in the space nearest to the door and looking physically pained by the proceedings. 

“You know, it’s not a bad thing, to show some emotion,” Will spoke eventually, after waiting for Hannibal to say something seemed like it would take longer than they both had. 

Hannibal shifted in his seat. 

“This is unfamiliar. To us both, I think,” he replied. 

Will’s expression softened. 

“I know,” he reached out and laced his fingers with Hannibal’s, bridging the space between them. “I’m not going anywhere. No games. No masterplan. I’m as blind as you are this time.”

Hannibal tightened his grip around Will’s fingers, staring down at their hands where they were linked together, resting against the leather of the seat between them. Presently, he extracted his hand from Will’s and shrugged out of his overcoat. 

“Large enough for us both,” he said, offering one end of the coat to Will. 

After some slightly awkward shuffling, they both eventually found themselves curled up beneath the coat, Hannibal holding Will against his chest, their legs tangling together in a newfound intimacy. They fell asleep quickly, Will feeling Hannibal’s breath stir his hair softly, wondering how he could feel so safe wrapped inside a monster’s arms.

***

Now, staring up at the little cabin Hannibal had chosen for them, Will contemplated all of the events of the past few days as he sipped his coffee with a serene placidity he did not feel. Eventually deciding to hurl himself into the breach with abandon, he passed the coffee cup back to Hannibal and slid warily out of the car.

“You’d better have some kind of shoes for me in there,” he groused, grimacing as his still bare feet touched the freezing cold ground. 

“I would offer to carry you, but I feel you may refuse.”

“You’ve got a fancy mug to look after,” Will retorted. 

Hannibal smiled as he watched Will pick his way carefully over the driveway leading up to the cabin, before eventually slamming the car door and following Will into their new home. He found Will standing in the middle of the living area, taking in his new surroundings. 

“Wish I had my glasses,” he remarked.

Putting the coffee cup down on a small end table, Hannibal felt in his pocket and presently produced Will’s glasses. He handed them to Will, who wiped them on the end of his shirt before putting them on. 

“Got any other surprises in there? Dogs in the back yard by any chance?”

“I’m afraid that is a little beyond my powers at the moment. I can give you the knife you tried to stab me with in Florence, your passport, and your phone, should you want any of them.”

“I’ll take the knife,” Will deadpanned. 

Not to be outdone, Hannibal fished the blade out of his pocket, took Will’s hand, and placed the knife in his palm. The two men stared at each other for a moment before Hannibal gave him a slight smirk and disappeared in the direction of what Will assumed was the kitchen. Will looked at the hunting knife balanced in his hand for a moment, contemplating tucking it into his waistband. Eventually, he sighed and chose to slide the blade onto the mantlepiece above the blazing fire. He stayed there for a moment, alternately picking up one foot and then the other, warming his toes in the heat. 

“More coffee?” Hannibal asked pleasantly, strolling back into the room carrying a pair of thick woollen socks. 

“I’m good. Take the socks though.”

Hannibal passed them to him and watched while Will eased them onto his feet. 

“You can sit. If you like.”

Will grinned up at him. 

“Of course,” he replied, pointedly ignoring the chairs and sauntering off in the direction of the kitchen. 

Remaining where he was, Hannibal eased himself down into one of the two well appointed armchairs which sat on either side of the fire and allowed Will to explore alone. 

The cabin was larger than it looked, expanding outwards towards a small stream which ran through the woods behind it. The kitchen was plain, containing a wood burning stove and wooden cabinets, but it was well stocked with gleaming new appliances, and Will could palpably sense Hannibal’s presence in every glint of stainless steel. The ground floor consisted only of the kitchen and the small living area, which featured a spiral staircase leading up to the cabin’s second floor. Upstairs there was a wood panelled bedroom containing a generously sized sleigh bed and not much else. A radiator blazed away cheerfully in the corner of the room, and someone had slug a fleecy comforter over it to get warm. Will actively pulled himself away from the soporific atmosphere of the room, determined to continue with his scouting mission and not to succumb to the temptation of the bed with its soft looking pillows and duvets. A tiny hallway separated the bedroom from a bathroom in which, predictably, Will discovered a claw foot bathtub and a variety of expensive looking bath products. Next to the bathroom, a slightly smaller bedroom containing a single bed was also pleasantly warm, a desk and chair sitting empty in front of the room’s only window. Back in the hall, a staircase which was little more than a ladder lead upwards to an unexpected third floor, in which Will uncovered a sloping roof and a dressing room full of clothes. He ran his fingers over the soft knits of a dozen winter jumpers, locating a suspicious amount of clothing he could never imagine Hannibal wearing, and wondering if Hannibal had been lying to him about not having any jeans in his size. A shelf above the hanging rail did, in fact, contain a few pairs of jeans, folded neatly in a pile next to a stack of socks, and Will pulled a pair down from the shelf in order to glance at the size printed inside the waistband. 

“Bastard,” he said aloud, wondering if Hannibal had simply been preparing for any and all eventualities or if his cocksure sense of infallibility had lead him to be sure Will would be coming to stay with him sans luggage of his own. 

Either way, Will was grateful to be out of his borrowed and ill fitting clothes, and as he descended the ladder sometime later dressed in jeans and a dark green cable knit sweater, he began to feel a lot less ill at ease. 

Hannibal had stayed in his chair by the fire, and was currently sitting with his legs crossed neatly, staring into the flames and imbibing Will with a sense of shocking deja vu. Will scooped up his still half full coffee mug and flopped down in the chair opposite.

“Feeling a little better?” Hannibal inquired conversationally. 

Will fixed him with a pointed stare. 

“The clothes up there are mine aren’t they?”

“I admit they were purchased for you. I wasn’t sure you would ever see this place, but I wanted to make it comfortable for you if you did.”

“You haven’t changed clothes,” Will observed, noticing Hannibal was still wearing the clothes he had taken from Mason’s house. 

“I wanted to make coffee.”

“Which you aren’t drinking.”

“I enjoyed a cup before waking you.”

“How long have you had this place?”

“I purchased it during your incarceration.”

Will laughed, perhaps a little bitterly. 

“You bought a house for us both while I was in jail and trying to kill you?”

Hannibal smiled. 

“I signed the papers before you attempted my life.”

“Oh I see. Considered selling it after the murder attempt, did you?”

“On the contrary, I bought quite a lot of the clothing while I was convalescing.”

“You realise how weird and disturbing that is, right?”

Shrugging, Hannibal leaned forward and tossed another log onto the fire. 

“Your attempt to kill me was encouraging. It implied that you were growing closer to the way of thinking I had been attempting to cultivate in you.”

Will was quiet for a while, listening to the crackling fire and sipping his coffee. 

“Did you plan to come here with Abigail?”

“Yes. I thought it might do for all of us, for a time. The top floor was originally a bedroom. I had it altered.”

“But you kept everything else the same?”

“I did.”

“Why?”

Contemplating his answer for a moment, Hannibal continued to stare forwards into the fire. 

“Hope is a dangerous thing, Will.”

Will decided this path could be explored later, when neither of them were quite as tired and injured, so he changed the subject. 

“You should get some sleep.”

“I think it would be wise. My shoulder is growing less painful, though I will still take a bath before sleeping.”

“Good. Go take a bath then.”

“I’ll need to stitch the cut on your face before you sleep.”

“After you have a bath,” Will replied absently. He suddenly realised the absurdity of telling Hannibal to do something as mundane take a bath about 48 hours after all of the events on Mason’s farm, and he breathed out a quiet laugh. 

“The domesticity of this situation is amusing you,” Hannibal guessed correctly, rising from his chair and massaging his injured shoulder gently. 

“Baths. It’s not exactly what we usually discuss.”

“No, but I believe it will become more familiar should we continue to share a living space. Discussing baths could be considered a little more healthily than our typical topics of conversation.”

Will made a noncommittal noise and swallowed the last of his coffee, while Hannibal made his way a little wearily towards the staircase. 

“There is more coffee in the kitchen,” he said as he disappeared up the steps. 

Will sat by the fire for a little longer, the empty coffee cup balanced on his knee. As he listened to the faint noise of Hannibal’s bath running upstairs, he wondered what the coming days would bring for them both as they tried to settle into this unfamiliar territory. There was no endgame here, no backup, no goal. It was puzzling and a little daunting - days stretching out in front of them both with no clear definition, knowing the world would most likely be ineffectually searching for them both. Will glanced up to where he was just able to make out the handle of his hunting knife peeking out over the edge of the mantlepiece. He looked at it for a beat before pushing himself to his feet and going to the kitchen in search of the promised coffee.

***

For the second time since their arrival, Hannibal was forced to wake Will, although this time it was the gentle hand pressing into his jaw and not the smell of coffee which woke him. 

“I am sorry again, Will. I need to see to your face.”

“Since when do you need me conscious to perform some kind of invasive procedure on me?” Will sniped sleepily, a little grumpy at having been roused. 

“I felt we should start as we mean to go on here, although I would be happy to sedate you if you insist on it,” Hannibal replied, amusement colouring his tone. 

“God no - you don’t have sedatives stashed around the place, do you?” Will asked, looking a bit alarmed. 

“No, Will.”

Will took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Good news.”

Giving Will his hand and pulling him up and out of the chair, Hannibal steered his tired patient in the direction of the stairs. 

“There are a set of knives in the kitchen - intended for cooking only. Your hunting knife on the mantlepiece. Two more hunting knives in the cupboard next to the front door. A shotgun and ammunition in the locked box next to the kitchen door. And a loaded handgun in the bedroom side cabinet,” Hannibal catalogued dispassionately.

Will raised his eyebrows.

“Why am I more concerned with the set of kitchen knives than with the handgun in the bedroom?”

Although Will could not see his face from his position on the steps, he could feel the smirk in Hannibal’s voice when he replied. 

“Because you are an intelligent man.”

Tired as he was, Will grinned in spite of himself, making his way to the bathroom and tossing his glasses on the sink with a clatter. The room was still a little warm from Hannibal’s bath, the windows and the mirror obscured by steam. 

“Sit down on the bench under the window. I will need the light.” Hannibal instructed, leaving the room for a moment before returning with a handful of items, some from Mason’s operating room and some from the cabin’s own store of medical supplies. 

Perching next to him on the bench, Hannibal tilted Will’s jaw up and gently peeled the bandages away from his face, choosing to deal with the cut made by his own hand first. Will was an excellent patient, as usual, and Hannibal cleaned the wound and bandaged it quickly before moving on to the deeper cut. 

“I can numb this for you, but it will be quicker to do this without anaesthetic.”

“Just do it,” Will said, setting his jaw. 

Hannibal worked quickly as he had promised, and the cut closed neatly under his expert hand. 

“You will have a small scar, but it will be light and hardly noticeable,” he told Will, carefully wrapping the used gauze and rising to wash his hands. 

Will watched him, taking in his slightly damp hair and uncharacteristically casual sleep-ware. 

“Where are the matching silk pyjamas and dressing gown?” he asked, a little sarcastically. 

“A t-shirt and shorts seemed perfectly adequate, considering the surroundings,” Hannibal replied, turning towards Will and looking down at his clothes. 

“Would have been ‘adequate’ for your surroundings before,” Will said. 

Hannibal opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted. 

“How’s the burn?”

“Better.”

“Do you want me to look at it?”

“If you like. I does not require a bandage at the moment, although it may by tomorrow.”

Will stood up and turned Hannibal around so he faced the bathroom’s sink. 

“Put your hands on the sink and lean over a bit.”

Hannibal complied, allowing Will to push his shirt a little way over his back to see the burn. He could feel Will’s fingers as they gently skirted around the margins of the injury, barely able to feel the ghost of touch fleeting over his skin. He looked up, wishing he could see Will’s face in the still steam coated mirror. 

“You dislike it,” he said. 

Will barked out a laugh. 

“It’s not a badly executed tattoo, Hannibal. It’s an injury.”

“You are deliberately misconstruing my meaning.”

Quiet for a moment, Will settled his hand on Hannibal’s bare hip. 

“Yes, I dislike it,” he said quietly. 

“Why?”

“You know the reason. You just want to hear me say it.”

“Alert as always.”

“Yes, well, I don’t like it. I don’t like it because no one should have put a mark on you.”

“No one - meaning no one who is not you.”

“If you like.”

“You would like to get rid of it.”

“Stop pushing me, Hannibal,” Will said, his voice a little lower than usual. 

Hannibal turned around slowly until he was facing Will. 

“I will always push. I have always done so in the past. You know this.”

Raising his hand to his face, Will rubbed his eyes wearily. 

“I know that. Just - not right now.”

Hannibal raised his hands and settled them carefully on Will’s shoulders. 

“I apologise Will. You are tired. You should sleep.”

“I am tired. I should wash. I can still feel Cordell’s hands,” Will replied miserably. 

Hannibal raised his hands and cupped Will’s jaw, turning his face up to meet his gaze. 

“I would not have left you in that place, Will. You are always safe.”

“Safe with you if not from you?” Will asked, tilting his head slightly and meeting Hannibal’s eyes. 

Hannibal looked at him for a moment before leaning down and pressing a feather light kiss onto Will’s lips. He pulled away only slightly, keeping Will’s head from turning with his hands, and smiling at him gently. 

“You are safe. With me and from me.”

Will smiled back at him - a real smile, not coloured by bitterness or sarcasm. He looked down at Hannibal’s mouth. It was lovely, he thought, strangely pretty, although it was not a word he would have normally used to describe any male feature. He started to say as much, but only got so far as drawing breath before thinking better of it. Of course, Hannibal would not let him get away with that, even in his current charitable state of mind. 

“What were you going to say?” he asked, a slight glint of mischief in his eyes.

Feeling petulant, Will replied: “Guess.”

Hannibal grinned and let his hands fall away from Will’s face. He leaned back against the sink, resting his hands on the edge of the porcelain and looking very pleased with himself. 

Will looked at him. 

“Oh for god’s sake,” he muttered.

Will gripped the back of Hannibal’s neck, pulling him forward into another kiss. It was not tender, and Will poured all of his frustration and turmoil into it, turning Hannibal’s face to the side and biting his jaw roughly. Hannibal let himself be moved, placing his hands gently on Will’s waist as a counterpoint to the violence, and allowing Will to do as he liked. 

“Kiss me properly,” Will said eventually, a little breathless, resting his head against Hannibal’s shoulder and speaking into the curve of his neck. 

Hannibal closed his eyes for a moment, moving one of his hands from Will’s waist and gripping the back of his hair. He tilted Will’s head backwards, baring his throat, and leaned down to Will’s mouth. Will closed his eyes, and felt Hannibal run his tongue gently over the seem between his lips. The thought of being essentially tasted should have been markedly more off-putting than it was, considering who was doing it, but Will couldn’t bring himself to be revolted or afraid. Instead he parted his lips a little, and let Hannibal open them further with his tongue. Hannibal did what was asked of him, and kissed Will properly, licking into his mouth and tasting Will completely before pulling back. 

Will opened his eyes after a moment and swallowed rather thickly. Hannibal still held him in place by his hair, and Will looked into those oddly coloured eyes, now blown almost black. They stared at each other for a while, unmoving, before Hannibal released him and stepped back. 

Grinning, Will ran a hand through his hair, gently massaging the base of his skull where the skin still stung from Hannibal’s grip. 

“Always knew you’d do that,” he said. 

Hannibal gave him a questioning look.

Instead of replying, Will reached forward and grabbed a handful of Hannibal’s hair, yanking his head back sharply. 

“This,” he said, placing a kiss on Hannibal’s bared throat. “Knew you would do that.”

Hannibal swallowed, and Will watched his throat move. 

“Will -“ he began, the slight crack in his voice betraying him slightly. 

“I’d like to mark your neck,” Will interrupted, pulling Hannibal’s hair and tilting his head further back. He ran a finger down the line of Hannibal’s throat contemplatively. 

“Do you still think about wrapping your hands around my throat, Will?”

“Yes.”

“I would let you.”

“I know you would.”

Holding Hannibal as he was, Will was free to look down the length of his body where it rested against the sink. The hands which could be so lethal were now resting tamely against the sink edge, the knuckles turning slightly white. Will scanned down the line of Hannibal’s thigh, tensed a little due to the his position. 

“You want to know what I was going to say earlier?” he asked. 

“If you would like to tell me.”

Will slid his free hand under the hem of Hannibal’s shirt, feeling the warmth of the skin there, tracing the line of muscle which lead down to the waistband of his shorts. 

“I was going to tell you that you had a pretty mouth.”

Hannibal smiled faintly, his breath hitching as Will slid a hand down his thigh, past his waistband and underneath his clothes. 

“You thought better of it as ‘pretty’ is not usually an acceptable descriptive term for a male,” he said, fighting to keep any trace of emotion out of his voice.

“Yes.”

“Will, this may not be the best time to do -“

Will slipped his hand around to the back of Hannibal’s thigh, running his hand slowly upwards towards the curve of his ass.

Hannibal shuddered. 

“Will, you ought to stop.”

Will shook his head.

“I want to touch you,” he said. “Always so closed. I prefer you like this.” 

Hannibal renewed his death grip on the sink edge and drew in a sharp breath as Will’s hand moved higher. 

“You don’t want me to stop,” Will continued, “You just find yourself confused by the lack of control.”

Will’s hand was now resting fully on Hannibal’s ass, and he felt the skin warm under his palm. Spurred on by Hannibal’s laboured breathing, he gripped tightly, effectively hitching Hannibal’s leg forwards and pulling one of his feet off the floor. He stepped a little closer to Hannibal’s waist, slipping his legs in-between Hannibal’s and pinning him even more closely to the sink. Peering up playfully through his curls, Will watched as Hannibal stared fixedly into the middle distance, refusing to make eye contact. Will could see the war going on behind Hannibal’s eyes, and he wondered how far he would be able to push before that perfect control snapped. He decided to move his hand again, never pulling it out of Hannibal’s waistband, but running it around the side of the tensed thigh and downwards towards the crease where the thigh met the leg. He dipped his fingers into the sensitive skin there, and felt it when Hannibal’s leg shifted slightly to allow him to run his fingers further down.

“Do you really want me to stop?” Will asked, unwilling to continue if Hannibal did truly want him to end this. 

Hannibal twisted a little in his grip.

“No. But I think you should.”

“Why?”

Moving suddenly and with the same grace he showed during a fight, Hannibal snapped his head forward and released his hair from Will’s grip. He snatched the hand which had strayed below his waist and twisted it in his grasp, turning Will around so he was facing the sink, his arm twisted behind his back and his head resting on Hannibal’s shoulder. 

“There it is,” Will said, a bit breathless but sounding quite satisfied with the reaction. 

Hannibal reached forward and wiped the condensation away from the mirror, letting Will see himself reflected in the dripping surface. 

“There it is,” he echoed. “Do you like what you see, Will?”

Still fully dressed in a sweater and jeans, Will felt suddenly warm, hot, sweltering, desperately overheated in his thick clothes. Feeling a flush spread over his cheeks, Will looked at his own reflection, watching as Hannibal pulled the collar of his sweater away from his neck and bent down to press a kiss into the join between his shoulder and his neck. He squirmed, just to feel the press of fingers as Hannibal tightened the grip around his wrist. Hannibal raised his head, looking for all the world like a lion raising his head from kill.

“We are death and violence, Will. Do you think this can be - or should be - tender?”

Will attempted to shrug, his position making it a little challenging. 

“Death can be tender. You tried to make it so for me.”

Hannibal looked at him sharply. 

“I did not intend to kill you, Will.”

“I know,” Will replied, meeting Hannibal’s eyes in the mirror. “I just wanted to make sure.”

Releasing him suddenly, Hannibal stepped back. 

“Will,” he said, his voice a little shaken, “We are both tired. You need to bathe and sleep.”

Running a hand over his no doubt bruised wrist, Will turned and reached past Hannibal to switch on the taps over the bath. Hannibal stood in the middle of the room, looking a bit lost while Will ran his fingers under the running water and perched on the edge of the bath. 

“I remember watching Bedelia run a bath like this,” Hannibal said abruptly. 

Will fixed him with a questioning look, wondering if the statement was intended to be inflammatory. 

As if realising the somewhat tactless nature of the sentiment, Hannibal continued quickly.

“I stood and watched her while she sat on the edge of the bath, just as you are now.”

Hannibal perched next to Will on the edge of the bath, and watched the water falling from the taps. 

“Do you know what I was thinking, while she undressed?” he continued. “How it would be best to serve her and if it would be possible to cook her leg whole.”

Silence reigned for a few moments while Will wondered how best to reply to this declaration. He had always known it was probably Hannibal’s intention to eat Bedelia, but hearing the words fall from the lips he had most recently thought of as pretty was a little bizarre. Still, he could hardly claim to be shocked or even repulsed, and it was his lack of either of these emotions which bothered him more than the confession. He could not kill like Hannibal - it was not in his nature. He knew that and so did Hannibal, but there was something inside Will’s mind which had grown to accept the darkness in the man sitting next to him, even if he could not wholly approve of it.

“Well I assume you’ve had enough time to plan how you might serve me, so you can’t be thinking about that now,” he replied eventually, a smile quirking the corners of his mouth. 

Hannibal fixed him with a look of affection which Will could barely credit as real. 

“I have an extensive menu planned. Perhaps I could share it with you.”

“Maybe that could wait until after I’ve got some sleep.”

Hannibal smiled. 

“You should smile more. It suits you better than smirking,” Will said, slipping off the edge of the tub and turning off the taps. “Now leave me alone and let me wash in peace.”

“Do not get the bandages wet,” Hannibal instructed, standing up and gathering the medical supplies from where they had been abandoned on the bench below the window. 

“I’ve been injured enough times to know that, thanks.”

Hannibal bent down and placed a kiss on Will’s hair before leaving the room and disappearing down the stairs. 

Alone at last, Will let out a very heavy sigh and slumped down on the edge of the bath once again. 

This was going to be interesting. 

***

Will stayed in the bath for some time, his eyes closed, letting the hot water soothe his aching muscles and clear his head. He tried not to think too much, which proved a little difficult, although he did recall that he wanted to ask Hannibal for his phone back before he went to sleep. At length, Will extracted himself from the now lukewarm water, resignedly wrapping a towel around his waist and realising too late that he would either have to get back into his clothes or attempt to climb a ladder whilst wearing only a towel. While he pondered this dilemma, he heard a tap at the door, and Hannibal’s voice broke through the silence. 

“Will? I have some clothes for you to sleep in.”

Of course Hannibal would have anticipated the problem, and already fixed it. Will rolled his eyes and opened the door to Hannibal, who was standing in the corridor with two cups of fragrant smelling tea clutched in one hand and a neat pile of clothes balanced on the other. 

“I thought you may like to dress for bed, in spite of the time. Although we have both slept, it will be good to get some rest in a proper bed.”

Will accepted the clothes and looked suspiciously at the tea. 

“Couldn’t just make some hot chocolate out of a packet?”

“After all of the roadside coffee, I did assume you might like something more pleasing, but if you want packet hot choc-“

“I’m joking,” Will said, “But do you really have packet hot chocolate?”

“I told you, I wanted you to be comfortable here,” Hannibal replied patiently.

Will laughed.

“Well, thank you.”

Hannibal nodded as if he had just accepted a knighthood, and retreated into the bedroom with the tea, leaving Will to change into the soft checked sleep pants and plain grey t-shirt which had been chosen for him. 

A brisk tidy up of the bathroom later, Will poked his head around the bedroom door to find Hannibal sitting up in bed, browsing through the internet on a tablet. 

“There’s internet here?” he asked, incredulous. 

“Of a fashion. It is enough to read the news.”

“I don’t want to know,” Will said, tiredly. 

He pulled the covers away from the other half of the bed and climbed in, drawing the blankets up to his chin and staring up at the ceiling. Hannibal observed him, his eyes softening. 

“You are able to sleep in the other room if you like. The bed is fully made up. Or I would be pleased to move if you would prefer this room.”

“Oh no, we are both staying right here. Which side of the bed is that handgun on?”

“Yours.”

“Good. I’ll trust you on that because I’m too tired to check.”

“I feel adequately menaced by your presence.”

“You know, your sense of humour is perhaps the most shocking discovery I have made.”

Hannibal snapped the cover over the tablet and placed it on the bedside table. 

“I believe I have always had a sense of humour. Perhaps you just failed to notice it.”

“Maybe I just wasn’t able to laugh at your jokes from jail. Or hospital.”

Swinging his legs out of the bed, Hannibal stood and drew the curtains over the window to block out some of the daylight. 

“I hope you will now have an adequate time away from both in order to fully appreciate all of my humour,” he replied, slipping back into bed beside Will. 

The room was dark now, and Will turned towards Hannibal, straining to see his face in the dim light. 

“I dream,” he said abruptly. “They aren’t pleasant.”

Hannibal reached out and stroked Will’s damp hair, smoothing it away from his face. 

“I am aware. I will be here when you wake up. Dreams can be unpleasant, but they are forgotten quickly when the waking world is found to be agreeable.”

Will reached out and traced the shape of Hannibal’s face in the dark, running his fingers along the sharp bones in his cheeks. He remembered something and stopped.

“You said you had my phone?”

“I do. It is downstairs. I was worried it may be used to trace our whereabouts, so I have not switched it on. But it is being charged.”

“Thank you. I will need to use it. Just once.”

“After we have slept.”

“Yes.”

Silence fell between them again, and Will continued to trace the lines of Hannibal’s face. Eventually, Will spoke, his voice a little thick with sleep. 

“I don’t know how to do this, Hannibal.”

Hannibal took the hand which was running along his cheek and held it tightly. 

“Nor do I, Will. We can but try.”

Will smiled sleepily. 

“We didn't drink the tea,” he said. 

“It doesn’t matter, Will. Go to sleep.”

Will curled himself forwards, his forehead almost touching Hannibal’s.

“I’m so warm,” he murmured, his eyes closing.

Hannibal let go of Will’s hand and placed it gently beneath the comforter. He smiled, wondering at how often he had found himself doing so in the past few days. Closing his eyes, sleep finally claimed him while he listened to the comforting sound of Will’s steady breathing and created a cathedral in his mind dedicated wholly to the sound.

In spite of everything, Will slept deeply, untroubled by dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> So, it has taken me quite a while to get here, sorry! ...I actually had this drafted out for a long time, but I've polished it off a bit and here it is! I hope some people might enjoy it as a continuation of the existing story (if anyone remembers it after all this time) or maybe just as a cute story about Will and Hannibal's cabin. Hopefully more coming soon if anyone is interested! x


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